


Repeating the Past

by perdue



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/pseuds/perdue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuki is troubled by his past and Manabe wishes more than anything to help. But unlike the last time Yuki opened up to him, providing comfort ends up leading down a path Manabe never could have expected. Nabe/Yuki, noncon Akito/Yuki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a different world

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually the first fic i ever posted to the internet way back in 2007. i abandoned it after a while due to lack of interest in furuba and how grossed out i was by the content i had created. but in 2012 i decided to pick it up again for writing practice, and to take it in a new direction, and the writing i did at that point was actually pretty damn good. i never wanted to post on ao3 for how bad the first 3-4 chapters were, though, and now my friend rei has convinced me to tweak/rewrite the first few to make it postable. so...here it is.
> 
> this fic does not start out explicit but will definitely become explicit in later chapters. it deals a lot with child abuse, manipulation and non-consensual sex performed on an underaged boy. if things like that squick or trigger you, please go find something happier to read!

Yuki stared blankly at the clock in the Student Council room, not really seeing or thinking to acknowledge the unbearably slow passage of time. Manabe and Kimi had run off to cause trouble for his fan-club, and Naohito had begrudgingly trudged after them, feeling the need to keep the peace out of some misplaced sense of duty. After she had finished her filing, Machi murmured that there was no more work to be done and left. Yuki may have been sad to see her leave if he had been conscious enough to notice.

Since that morning, his mind had felt hazy, _something_ felt inexplicably _wrong_. He couldn’t explain why it was happening— _why now, after all this time_ —but pieces of his past that had been better off forgotten had sunk into his mind throughout the day, leaving him dazed and disoriented. He might have felt grateful for a chance to sit alone and think without interruptions if the intrusive thoughts were anything but what he was experiencing.

The rat’s gaze moved from the clock to the paperwork in front of him, though he still didn’t really see anything. He had tried so hard to forget about the things that had happened to him, but as was becoming clearer each year, some scars are simply impossible to heal.

It was embarrassing to admit even to himself that he had been sold by his own parents to be Akito’s toy, but the memories resurfacing since that morning weren’t the same. They held a much more terrible humiliation to them.

Slumping over and resting his head in his arms, Yuki balled his hands into fists and willed the more detailed images to go away. Ones of hot breath, searching hands. The confusion of a pleasurable moment followed by pain and fear. Knowing so fully that he was a toy in so many more ways than a child ever should be.

A brief flash of pain shot through the haze in his mind as he realized his fingernails had dug so deep into his palms that he drew blood. Finally feeling lucid, he sat up again, staring at the blood sluggishly pooling on his upturned palms. Yes, those memories were too terrible to mention. After all, everyone was aware that he’d been given to Akito, but he had never dared to tell a soul of the things Akito had done to him in that black room. It would be too degrading for any of his cousins to know just how used was.

“Leader!” The voice was distant to Yuki’s ears, and the rat might have expected it was coming from outside the room ha he not glanced up to see Manabe already inside. “AAAH!” Nabe yelled.

“E-Eh!?” Yuki yelled right back, startled.

“Yun-Yun, _you’re bleeding!_ ”

\--

“So you were thinking too hard again?” Manabe had taken Yuki first to the nurse to get his hands bandaged, then outside in front of the soccer field, the place Yuki had last confessed to the vice president the deep feelings he’d held about his past, and about Tohru.

“Yeah,” Yuki mumbled, staring pointedly at the cup of water Kakeru offered him.

“At least you didn’t throw up this time,” Manabe remarked cheerfully. Yuki rolled his eyes and allowed himself a glance at the other’s bright smile before looking away.

Manabe sat down next to Yuki without a word, for which Yuki was grateful. There was no way Nabe would let him leave unless he opened up at least a bit—that much Yuki knew for certain. He held onto the paper cup tightly, nearly crushing it. He couldn’t bear the thought of Manabe discovering just how pitiful he was.

“Manabe,” he started, and his voice was already starting to crack. He could feel Manabe’s concerned eyes on him without even looking his way. “I can’t—this isn’t something I can so easily talk about…”

Yuki nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to his friend, who immediately caught his gaze, dark eyes piercing and warm. “Yuki, I thought last time would’ve…” He trailed off, embarrassed for some reason Yuki couldn’t discern, but his eyes never left Yuki’s. “No matter how bad it is, I really want to listen to you. And to be there for you! And to try to make you feel happy again. Even if I have to listen to all of Yun-Yun’s sob stories.” Manabe’s smile was gentle as he placed a thumb under Yuki’s eye to brush away the water that had spilled over, and with a tender voice continued, “Even if I have to wipe away all of Yun-Yun’s tears.”

Rather than registering the fact that he had begun to cry, Yuki searched Manabe’s eyes, wondering at the strange gentleness radiating from him. Rather than jumping back in embarrassment, Yuki sat and simply felt the togetherness of Manabe’s fingers lingering on the side of his cheek. Nabe closed his eyes and gave Yuki his brightest smile. “’Kay?” he asked.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Yuki murmured, “Yeah, yeah,” and pushed Manabe’s hand off his face, perfectly aware of the flush on his cheeks. “Vice President-san, don’t you have any shame, coming on to me like that?” He wiped at his tears with his sleeve as he spoke, but his voice remained steady and deadpan. “Your girlfriend would be appalled.”

“Actually, me and my girlfriend, we went our separate ways a while back.”

Shock made Yuki momentarily forget what he was doing, and his arms fell a few inches as he stared at Manabe, mouth agape. “What happened?” he asked, the surprise apparent in his tone. “I thought you loved her?”

Manabe reached into his pocket and handed Yuki a handkerchief. “Of course I loved her. But things change. Love fades, new loves brighten.” He gazed distantly out at the soccer field and let out a sigh. “We both just wanted to try something new, you know? It was hard, but I’m pretty sure we’re both happier this way.”

 _The way he says it_ , Yuki thought, peering at his friend from behind the handkerchief, _he doesn’t sound very happy at all_. Yuki mimicked his friend, looking out at the soccer field.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were suffering,” Yuki said quietly. 

“Well, unlike me, you’re terrible at hiding it when you’re really upset.” His voice had been pleasant, but Yuki flinched nevertheless, the urge to cry threatening to flare up again. The way he said it so calmly, Yuki couldn’t help but wonder how many times Manabe had suffered, and how many of those times the idiot had actually bothered to go to someone. “But c’mon, Yun-Yun, enough about me. You’ve been out of it all day, so tell me what’s going on.”

Yuki made a disgruntled face. “Was…it that bad?”

“Oh yeah, Yun-Yun. You were always gazing off into the distance, and even when Naohito tried to force you to do any paperwork you just scribbled nonsense all over the page and didn’t pay any attention! Kimi was getting so frustrated, she would have jumped you if I hadn’t come to the rescue of Leader!”

Yuki stared at his hands that then rested in his lap, the shock at what Manabe told him settling uncomfortably over him. He’d almost been hugged. That was too dangerous to allow. He’d have to leave school if he couldn’t get the haze out of his mind, perhaps he’d never be able to go back, he’d leave everyone behind and maybe Hatori would have to get involved—

Yet again he felt Manabe’s hand on his shoulder. He looked over, saw Manabe’s genuine concern. This boy, who had been just as genuine when Yuki had admitted his feelings for Tohru. This friend, who let Yuki smile truly, and from the heart. Yuki blushed, eyebrows furrowing as he looked away from Manabe’s imploring eyes. He had been so wrapped up in self-loathing that he failed to realize that Manabe really _would_ listen, most likely wouldn’t berate him or further his humiliation. Manabe was in a completely different world from Yuki. Perhaps he would never truly understand, but Yuki felt confident that he would support him regardless.

_Kyo is with Shihan until next week, and Honda-san is staying with Hanajima-san and Uotani-san…_

“Manabe, would you like to stay at my house this evening?”

There was a long, excruciatingly awkward pause, but soon enough Manabe jumped up into a very Kimi-like pose. “Oh my! Yun-Yun wants me to go to his house to watch his erotic videos!? How naughty, tee hee!”

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” Yuki yelled, his cheeks burning at Nabe’s perversion.

The silence that followed almost seemed loud in itself, but after a few moments Manabe shrugged. “Sure, Yun-Yun. As long as you’ll talk about what’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” Yuki mumbled as Manabe took out his cell phone to call his mother.

\--

Simply out of curiosity, Yuki glanced up from the kana blocks Akito had given him. At five years old, he didn’t know much besides that when Akito went silent, something was on his mind. As it turned out, the rat’s seven-year-old playmate was watching Yuki, but his eyes were distant, as if he wasn’t really seeing anything before him.

“Akito?” Yuki queried in a small voice. The head of the family blinked and focused his gaze solely on his cousin. “Akito, is something wrong?” The seven-year-old blinked a few more times before setting Yuki with a rueful smile.

“No, my little Yuki,” he answered softly. “I was just wondering something.” The five-year-old gave Akito an inquisitive look, head tilted to the side.

“What is it?” the rat asked. Akito’s smile faltered, and he looked away before turning his back to his cousin and starting where he’d left off in his book.

Yuki blinked a few times before giving his attention back to the kana blocks. Akito didn’t want to talk about it, and that was just fine. When the seven-year-old was ready, he would tell Yuki whatever it was that needed to be said.

In fact, it was only after a few minutes had passed that, without turning to face his cousin, Akito broke the silence. “Yuki, do you know what kissing is?” The head of the family abandoned his book and stood slowly, gracefully, facing the wall with untroubled determination. “I saw my mother…” He fumbled over his words and fell silent for just a moment, before quickly continuing, “What would happen I kissed you?”

Yuki’s head again tilted to the side. In theory, yes, he knew what kissing was, but it was something he had yet to experience. After all, his mother had never shown him any type of affection.

“If you kissed me, our lips would be together?”

Silence followed the uncertain statement. Yuki clutched his pants with tight fists and awaited his cousin’s reaction.

“… Hm,” Akito finally said, his voice light, a small smile playing on his lips. He strode to where his cousin was sitting anxiously until he stood directly in front of the boy. He dipped down to kneel before the five-year-old, his kimono flying up behind him before settling back in neat folds. His movements were always so graceful, Yuki sometimes wondered if Akito was really some sort of angel.

Yuki waited then, frozen as Akito reached out, fingers hesitantly touching Yuki’s cheek before running over his lower lip. “Akito…?” Yuki asked, his voice lacking any conviction for protest as the older leaned in and placed his lips gently on his cousin’s. The kiss was over almost as soon as it had started, but Akito smiled. Yuki didn’t know why, but he smiled in return.


	2. lacking control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for nonconsensual vaguely sexual stuff with a very underaged boy!!

“Wow, Yun-Yun.”

Yuki and Manabe stood in front of Yuki’s house, and Nabe’s mouth was hanging rudely open as he stared ahead.

“Cool place,” Nabe said, whistling in approval. He grinned. “But of course Yun-Yun the princess would have such a big home as her castle.”

Manabe’s protests and yelps of pain fell on deaf ears as Yuki, eyebrows furrowed in angry frustration, pulled The Idiot along by the ear. So instead, The Idiot changed his plan of action to a steady cry of, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” until they finally got inside and Yuki relinquished Manabe’s poor, bruised ear.

“Jeez, Yun-Yun. You have no mercy,” Manabe slurred, pouting and rubbing his sore ear as they both removed their shoes in the hallway.

“Well it would do you some good to realize I’m not a girl,” Yuki retorted, a sort of close-eyed “dignity-at-all-times” expression plastered on his face, his back deliberately facing his friend.

“Hey, it’s not like I can help it.” The rat opened his eyes and glowered at the opposite wall, the mischief in Manabe’s tone not exactly calming his nerves. In fact, he might have turned and struck when he felt a hand snaking down his arm had Manabe’s lips not appeared beside his ear a moment later. “You _are_ really _cute_ like a girl, after all,” he said in a hushed tone.

Yuki, who had temporarily forgotten how to think as he felt warm breath flitted across his ear and an equally warm hand drawing faint lines against his prickling skin, was saved as Shigure’s voice broke through his (lack of) thoughts.

“Yuki-kun, is that you?” the dog called from the living room. “Is someone with you?”

“Yeah!” Yuki called, pulling away from Manabe with the intention of simply forgetting about whatever The Idiot had been trying to do. He avoided turning to look at the other boy, not wanting him to see just how red Yuki’s face had become. Rather, he walked toward the living room, expecting Manabe to follow him, which he did.

“Hello, Yuki-kun,” Shigure said cheerfully. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m home,” Yuki said, resituating his bag on his other shoulder and gesturing to Nabe. “This is Manabe Kakeru. He’s the vice president at our school.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Manabe said, bowing politely. “Are you Yuki-kun’s father?”

“I’m pleased to finally meet you as well, Kakeru-kun. But no, I am Shigure Sohma, Yuki-kun’s cousin.” Manabe’s eyebrows rose and he shot Yuki a brief questioning glance. “Well, in any case, please make yourself at home.” Shigure smiled and Manabe smiled back. 

“Thank you very much, Sohma-San,” Manabe said, bowing again. 

“We’ll be in my room,” Yuki said before turning to leave. 

Before the two boys opened the door, Shigure spoke tonelessly, “Oh, and Yuki-kun, I’m going to see Akito today.” Yuki tensed immediately at the mention of the head of the family. “He wanted me to bring you, but if you have a friend staying over, you’re excused.” 

Manabe jumped, waving his hand in the air in embarrassment, saying things like, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get in the middle of family matters, maybe it would be better for me to come back later?” But Yuki barely heard him. He could barely stand, hand on the doorknob and frozen with shock when another horrible memory like the ones that had plagued him all throughout the school day pushed into his mind, another sickening recollection of Akito’s fingers touching his naked skin, of breath flitting across his ear as the head of the family murmured words that had seemed better suited for adults to him. 

“Yuki?”

Manabe’s voice managed to work itself into Yuki’s mind, and the rat was suddenly aware that Manabe had placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. He turned to look at him, and saw that his expression was laced with worry. “Yuki, are you alright?”

Yuki looked away quickly, his hair falling into his face and hiding the fear and desperation that gathered in his amethyst eyes. He didn’t answer, merely taking the hand that had rested so comfortingly on his shoulder so that he could lead Manabe out of the room, having ignored Manabe’s worried chatter. The emotions that were boiling in his chest threatened to burst through, and Yuki feared himself and the strange way he had been acting all day. Deep within himself he knew that it would be safer to send Manabe home, because whatever was wrong with him, he didn’t want to put Manabe in the middle of it, wouldn’t want his innocently smiling friend to become caught up in the labyrinth of his inner turmoil and twisted feelings. 

But as long as Manabe was there, he would be safe from Akito. He would give almost anything to save himself from having to see the head of the family while he was like this. 

\--

“Yuki.” 

The small amethyst-eyed boy’s deadened gaze flitted away from the window to a shadowed corner of the room. He could make out the faint glow of Akito’s pale skin, lightened by the sunlight streaming in from the open window. 

He had only left for a moment. 

It had been New Year, and young Yuki thought he might become asphyxiated from the stifling feeling of being only glanced at with mocking eyes by his brother and cousin. Akito had been preoccupied with Kureno, so surely he wouldn’t be missed if he disappeared to the restroom? Even if he hadn’t heard the servants talking about the cat outside and his terribly angry faces, Yuki likely would’ve taken the same amount of time staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. But listening to the amused, gossiping servants, he came to the realization that perhaps he wasn’t the only one in the family who felt alone. Perhaps he might have finally found someone in the family who would understand him—perhaps they could be _friends_. The very thought of it had him turning on his heel, away from the family that abandoned him, away from Akito; his new destination was a freedom that might have been waiting right outside the front door. 

The yard was covered with a heavy coat of snow, and through the dense quiet Yuki could hear shallow breathing. When Yuki finally saw him standing out in the snow, breaths forming small clouds in the cold evening air, he realized he had never seen something prettier than the other boy’s shining orange eyes. Even though he had never seen the cat before, the other boy seemed to recognize him immediately. 

“You. You’re the rat, huh?” he had asked, and Yuki had flushed at the boyish sound of his voice. But it was no use—the cat’s expression turned into a deadly scowl, his tone dripping with fury as he said, “I’ll _never_ forgive you. Do you hear me? I’ll _never_ forgive you! It’s all you fault, rat! Everything’s your fault! It’s all because you exist!”

Yuki paled as the pupils of the cat’s eyes even seemed to morph into ones like the animal of his namesake. “ _Someone as rotten as you oughta do us all a favor and just disappear_!”

The cat ran away then, leaving Yuki alone to cry in the snowy yard. And now, after losing his one hope of friendship, after already being punished by the mother who had sold him away as if he were nothing more than a toy, now he had Akito to punish him as well. 

“Yuki, please answer me.” Akito abandoned his dark corner to walk near where Yuki sat, hugging his knees to his chest and crying silent tears. “I would very much like to hear your voice.” 

“Y-Yes, Akito?” the small boy choked out, forcing back a sob. 

The nine-year-old released a satisfied, “Hm,” and kneeled in front of his cousin. Yuki neither flinched nor pulled away as Akito reached out his hand, first to brush the hair from the younger boy’s face, then to trace down Yuki’s tear-streaked cheek with slender fingers. “Much better,” he whispered, his fingertips feather-light against Yuki’s trembling chin, the touch eliciting a small whimper from the rat. 

“Akito, are... are you angry?” he asked quietly. A moment of silence passed, and the six-year-old found he was unsure if it was him or the fingers on his chin that were shaking. His eyes did not meet Akito’s narrowed gaze, but focused on his lips, slightly parted, as if he were about to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

“We’ll see, my little Yuki,” Akito finally said, has voice soft as he leant down to place a chaste kiss on his cousin’s pale lips.  
Yuki closed his eyes just in time for Akito to pull away. He couldn’t say he disliked it when his cousin did this. Between being hurt and being told how dark the world was, the gentleness of his kisses was the most enjoyable part of being with Akito. 

The head of the family again leaned in, and Yuki took the opportunity to tilt his head up to meet the older boy’s lips. It was short, but Akito was back within the moment, placing an open-mouthed kiss on Yuki’s closed lips. Yuki opened his mouth slightly and resituated his legs so that they were no longer blocking Akito from coming closer. In response, Akito immediately pressed himself against his cousin without breaking the kiss, and placed a hand on the back of Yuki’s neck to pull him closer still. 

Without warning, Akito slipped a tentative tongue into Yuki’s mouth. Yuki, startled by the action, tried to pull away, but Akito’s hand on his neck held him still as the boy explored the rat’s mouth. Alarms were going off like rapid fire in Yuki’s brain. It didn’t feel pleasant anymore—the entire situation suddenly seemed very _wrong_. His eyes, open and staring at Akito’s crinkled eyebrows and closed lids, widened when Akito moaned and began reaching urgently for the ties to Yuki’s kimono. 

“Akito!” Yuki yelled into his cousin’s mouth. The sound was muffled, but it made no difference as Yuki jerked his head away. “Please stop,” he whispered, tearful. “This is wrong.” 

It took several moments for Akito to register Yuki’s words, and when he did he struck Yuki in the same place his mother had not so long ago. “Who are you to tell _me_ I’m doing something wrong!?” he shrieked. Yuki burst into tears. “Was it not wrong for you to leave me at New Years!? And why did you leave? To greet the stupid cat!?”

Yuki’s sobs grew louder. Throughout New Year, all he’d been able to think about was the cat—how beautiful the other boy was, and how much he hated himself for being born the way he was; for being born in a form that everyone hated. 

“Why would you want to speak to that wretched monster, anyway? _I’m_ your friend, your mother gave you to _me_!” In a fit of childish fury, Akito grabbed Yuki by the back of the neck and forced him into a kiss so hard it left both of them bruised. “You’re _mine_ ,” Akito whined into Yuki’s lips. 

But as Akito continued to take advantage of him, Yuki could only think that Akito was wrong. 

No boy so beautiful could ever be such a monster. 

\--

“Neat room, Yu—ehh!?”

Manabe was cut short as Yuki took two fistfuls of his shirt and backed him forcefully into the wall, his quick, shallow breath mere inches from Manabe’s parted lips and his eyes closed, hazy mind relishing in the feeling of hot breath mixing with his own. Yuki could feel the shock in Manabe’s tensed muscles, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. 

Suddenly, as if just realizing what he was doing, Yuki’s eyes opened wide in the same shock Manabe must have felt and released his friend, backing several feet away. He didn’t dare look at Manabe, unsure and frightened of what had just come over himself. He wrapped an arm around himself protectively and covered his mouth with his free hand. What if he had _kissed_ him? 

“Yuki,” Manabe said, his voice quiet and serious. “Did that Akito person do something to you?” Yuki covered his eyes now, not wanting to see Manabe’s expression, fearing the disgust that might show on his face. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

Yuki felt his knees quivering uncontrollably and slowly dropped to them, curling up into himself to try to hide the fact that tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. “I… couldn’t stop him,” he whispered, at once horrified to finally admit to it and relieved that Manabe had come to the conclusion himself; Yuki didn’t know if he would’ve been able to say it. Even the thought of Akito—his hands and lips touching places they absolutely didn’t belong—brought out a sob that Yuki tried to cover as best he could. 

Then without wasting any time, Manabe’s arms wrapped around the broken boy’s shoulders. Yuki opened his eyes slowly, surprise muted but there as Manabe held him close, his chin resting gently atop Yuki’s head. “It’s okay, Yuki,” he murmured softly. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

After a moment of tense shock, Yuki’s body relaxed and he closed his eyes, leaning into Manabe’s warm embrace. Those words were exactly what he had always wanted to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason the end notes from the first chapter are appearing here... anyone know how to make that go away?


	3. God's Tool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for slightly more explicit sexual stuff with a very underaged boy (but this is the last chapter that involves underage)

His steps were slow and unsteady, the floor creaking softly beneath each footfall. He deftly handed his bag to the worried servants, ignoring their somewhat urgent questioning only because their voices felt too distant for him to truly understand. His feet led him along as if his brain weren’t consciously deciding his path. The only thing he was truly aware of was the tactile sensation of Kyo’s bright red hat in his hands. He clung to it tightly as if it might just float away from him if he weren’t especially careful with it. 

Before he knew it, Yuki was standing in Akito’s private quarters, just in front of the other boy who was sitting on the floor with a book in hand. Akito glanced at Yuki as if he were nothing more than a second thought. 

“Oh, Yuki?” he asked with only a passive interest. “Why are you crying?”

Yuki’s lip quivered and his legs felt weak so he fumbled to his knees, dropping the hat in favor of clinging to the front of Akito’s kimono instead. He couldn’t even find the strength to pull himself closer, head bowed as he broke down and sobbed hysterically. 

There was something moving inside him. It started in the pits of his stomach, working itself up through his body, burning into his lungs, leaving him to choke on it as it reached his throat. It was an emotion he didn’t want to admit he had. Could it even be possible? 

Was it possible for Yuki to feel love? 

It had only been a day since Hatori had taken the memories of his friends. He saw them walk by, laughing and not acknowledging him in the slightest. And Yuki didn’t dare look at them long enough for them to notice—long enough to see the grief in his face, the longing to be with them again. He wouldn’t have been able to bear their confused expressions. If fate would not allow him these friends, what use was it to try to get them back? 

That day walking home, it was windy. 

It was the only thing Yuki noted as he made his way to the Sohma estate, fingers hooked around the straps of his backpack, his eyes downcast. He had retreated into his own mind, something he hadn’t done in a long time, not since he’d made friends. Now that they were gone, all he could think about was how much he _wanted_ friends, so much his heart felt as though it would burst like a balloon. 

A strong gust of wind blew, interrupting his train of thought. Yuki halted, turning away to keep the sharp wind from his face, though his bangs snapped against his cheeks regardless. Once the wind died down the boy opened his eyes only to narrow them at the red hat that then rested on the ground before him. Just as he bent down to retrieve it, he heard a very familiar voice yelling out, “-Shou! Shishou, wait! My hat just flew—”

In that moment, the boy with the orange hair jumped out of the bushes, landing gracefully ( _like a cat_ , Yuki couldn’t help but think) in front of him. Kyo paused before him in shock. Yuki thought then that Kyo had really only seen him at the New Years party, although Yuki had seen Kyo once more through the car window while driving to school. That had only been a moment, however, and now Yuki had more of a chance to look at him. 

Kyo had matured a bit, and no longer held the same youthfulness Yuki had felt at New Years. Notwithstanding, Yuki’s opinion didn’t change: the cat was still just as beautiful as he had been the first time Yuki had seen him. 

The blush was already rising in his cheeks as he watched his cousin, saw the shock that illuminated his bronze-colored eyes. “…Oh. Um, here,” Yuki mumbled, timidly offering the hat back to the other boy. Yet, it was no use. The cat’s glare was intense and unrivaled, and he quickly and angrily stomped away, abandoning his hat with strong conviction. 

Yuki felt no surprise at the action; he’d known the cat hated him since their first encounter, after all. Rather, he felt hollow. Even though Yuki acknowledged Kyo’s resentment toward him as deeply as he possibly could in his young age, he still couldn’t help the feeling of longing that trailed after Kyo in his bitter wake. Yet, Kyo would never understand or even recognize that longing, and so Yuki sobbed with childish abandon. The boy collapsed to his knees, a withered plant whose stem could no longer support him for lack of light. He still clutched at Kyo’s red hat. 

Enough time passed that Yuki wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but eventually even his tears all dried up, and although he didn’t want to, he stood on shaking legs. His mother had abandoned him; his friends no longer remembered him; Kyo would not even deign to touch his own belonging after it had been sullied by Yuki’s hands. It felt to Yuki as if not a single soul in the world would ever look at him, would acknowledge him. 

Yet, he knew that wasn’t true; not really. There was one who would look at him, and in that moment Yuki felt nothing more than a desire to feel his existence validated, whether for good or bad. 

“Yuki,” Akito said softly, and the eight-year-old was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder blade which lingered for a moment before trailing down to the small of his back. Yuki knew what this meant; it meant the caress of lips and the stroke of tongues. No matter how many times Akito continued his experiment in sensual intimacy, he never seemed satisfied. By then, Yuki no longer felt fear. There was nothing more than a hollowness in his chest, the feeling that his mind was floating to somewhere far away, leaving his physical body behind. He’d stopped trying to say no long ago. 

“Yuki,” Akito repeated, as if he knew Yuki’s mind was sealing itself off and wanted to call him back. Yuki’s grip on Akito’s kimono loosened, and he tilted his head up so that he could see his cousin’s face. The head of the family smiled gently and leaned in, pausing only an inch from Yuki’s lips, breathing light and unbothered against his skin. “Your world,” Akito whispered, his words slow and deliberate, “is black.” 

A fresh set of tears stung at Yuki’s eyes. Akito watched the little rivers rush down Yuki’s cheeks while his fingers flitted down the rat’s front, other hand holding him firmly in place with the palm pressed against the small of Yuki’s back. He reached under the jacket of the rat’s school uniform and carefully untucked the undershirt there, tilting his head to the side and grazing a kiss against Yuki’s damp cheek. His lips moved painfully slowly against Yuki’s trembling skin as he continued, “You are a boring human being.” 

Yuki couldn’t help the sob that escaped him then, shutting his eyes against the tears and trying his best to quiet his crying. He hated it—he hated more than anything that it had to be him who was born as the rat. He hated that Akito seemed to take such pleasure from making him wish he were dead. 

But somehow when Akito abruptly stood, pulling away entirely, Yuki still produced a soft moan of protest, though protest at what, the eight-year-old could hardly know. All he knew was that Akito was the only person who would ever touch him. Yuki, touch-starved boy that he was, felt that it was better to feel that physical closeness at the expense of his sense of self than to feel nothing at all. 

Hearing Yuki’s sound of protest, Akito paused and turned back in his direction with a hum. The head of the family bent far over, lifted Yuki’s face to his and placed a wet kiss on the rat’s lips. When he finally pulled away, their gazes locked, and there was a strong emotion in his God’s pitch-black eyes that Yuki lacked the vocabulary to describe. It might have looked like longing if there was not the same domination behind it, the same hunger. While Yuki felt an innocent longing, a _pure_ longing, the longing that radiated from his cousin was dark, twisted. Yuki was powerless against it, drowning in the blackness that Akito created for him. 

Akito searched Yuki’s eyes as they looked at each other, and Yuki numbly wondered what Akito saw in his. Whatever it was, he must have found it intriguing, because he leaned in to taste Yuki’s tear-stained lips once more before he pulled away. His voice was soft and low with that hungry emotion as he said, “I’ll only be gone for a moment.” He straightened, and turned away to walk out of the door before adding, “Remove your coat.” 

Dutifully, Yuki began unbuttoning his jacket, his shaking fingers fumbling slowly to the first, second, and third until it hung open, revealing his white button-up shirt and black tie. Several minutes passed before he could hear the soft murmur of voices outside the door. One of the voices belonged to Akito, his sickeningly pleasant tone audible even though his words were not. It was clear he was speaking with a servant, and Yuki listened as much as he could as he removed his arms from his coat sleeves. The old woman sounded anxious, and the more she spoke, the angrier Akito’s voice grew, until he was shouting and Yuki could hear him clearly. 

“I don’t _care_ if he looks unstable! He’s mine and I’ll do what I want! If anyone even comes _close_ to this room, I swear I’ll kill them!” There was a thumping sound and the sound of glass shattering, and a moment later Akito slammed the door open, the hushed and hasty apologies from the servant receding when the head of the family slipped back inside, shutting the door behind him. Yuki watched him, frozen in place as Akito breathed harshly, eyes focused on nothing and full of rage. He held a teapot in his hand and a single teacup. Yuki wondered if he’d smashed the other one in his anger. 

Only a matter of seconds passed before his pupils flickered over to his young cousin. “Yuki,” the boy growled, looking for all the world as if he were ready to walk over and give Yuki scars and bruises that would take weeks to mend. Yuki could feel himself wanting to move but his limbs would not follow suit. 

“A-Akito,” he whimpered, already feeling the sting of his blows before he’d even come near. Only thinking that he wanted to save himself from harm, he said the first word that came to mind: “T-Tea.” 

Akito blinked, thankfully coming back to himself. Yuki let out a trembling breath as Akito silently looked down at the teapot in his hand, and with a trembling hand he poured its steaming contents into the teacup and offered it to Yuki. 

Yuki blinked back at him in turn. It had been years since his cousin had done anything verging on kindness for him. Both of their hands shook as Yuki took the cup from him. 

“Drink,” Akito ordered quietly. As always, Yuki did as he was told. 

The tea warmed his throat as he drank it, bringing with it a sense of calm. When he finished the first cup—one of the small ceramic cups used in traditional tea ceremonies—Akito insisted on pouring him another cup, and Yuki obliged. 

By the end of the third cup, Yuki felt as though he were in a daze. Akito was physically close— _when had that happened?_ Yuki wondered—though Yuki had never felt so mentally far away. The older boy’s knuckles brushed against Yuki’s cheek, and the brief contact and the coolness of Akito’s hand made him realize how warm his skin felt. 

Yuki barely registered the fact that Akito had begun undoing his tie, the sensation of it being pulled out from beneath his collar faint. “Akito, what are you…” Yuki tried to ask, but the question faded into nothing as the older boy began undoing the buttons of Yuki’s dress shirt, fingertips light as they explored the rat’s newly bared chest. Akito leaned in and kissed at Yuki’s neck with a sloppy lack of expertise, but suddenly Yuki felt a hyperawareness of the sensation, and he couldn’t control the way his breath hitched. 

“You like this, hm?” Akito whispered. His breath tickled against the rat’s pale neck and Yuki shivered. The answer to Akito’s question hardly mattered; Akito had never gone this far before, and it was clear that he had no intention of stopping. Akito’s desire for physical closeness went far beyond the bounds of what Yuki had wanted by coming to him. Akito’s movements were too heavy, too laden with emotions that Yuki was neither mentally nor physically ready for. 

“No,” Yuki replied, whimpering as Akito pushed him down onto his back. Through the haze in his mind, Yuki felt genuine fear at the sneer on his cousin’s face. 

“I beg to differ,” the older boy whispered, the same hungry, livid emotion practically dripping from his words. Yuki was unable to fight him off, couldn’t think while Akito undressed him, couldn’t breathe as he was taken advantage of. 

Yuki had gone home that day feeling very dirty. There had been touches and gentle strokes and heated kisses upon his gaping mouth. It had been enough, though, to make his body feel on fire through the haze of his mind, for him to explode quickly against his cousin’s eager hand, his cry muffled against Akito’s lips. And as soon as the head of the family had pulled away, Yuki tugged his clothes back onto his shivering body, trying as best he could to disregard the stickiness on his hips. 

Even Akito seemed somewhat shaken by the situation, staring at the stickiness that also covered his palm with a muted expression of consternation. He didn’t much pay attention as Yuki shakily gathered his things. He hesitated at the red hat but took it anyways, handling it with a sober, reserved care. When Yuki was about to leave the room, Akito finally spoke up, his tone shakier than Yuki had ever heard it before. 

“Nobody cares about you.” 

Yuki paused for only a moment before rushing out of the door. 

-

The room was dark. Shigure halted near the window, and Akito scrutinized his every move. 

“Where’s Yuki?” 

A pause, and then: “Staying the night with a friend.” 

The frustration and rage from the head of the family was almost palpable. 

Shigure opened a window and light poured in. He turned around. Akito’s corner was still drowning in shadow. 

-

Kakeru Manabe never moved, never once gave any indication that he was uncomfortable. He merely sat there, his arms around Yuki, the words, “It’s okay,” leaving his mouth whenever the rat sobbed or began shaking. He didn’t complain that his shirt was getting wet, didn’t make fun of the rat for crying so childishly, didn’t try to pull away when Yuki’s arms snaked their way around Manabe’s middle, decreasing the space between them. 

It had been too long. The only friendly embraces in his life had been those few moment-long, usually accidental hugs with Tohru before he transformed into his rodent counterpart. 

Then there had been Akito…

Another set of sobs racked at Yuki’s chest, and Manabe’s arms tightened around the rat’s shoulders. “Yuki,” Manabe whispered tenderly. His face pressed into Yuki’s soft hair, and in a muffled voice continued, “You don’t deserve to feel this pain.” 

There would have been no way to tell, and really Yuki could care less about what time it was, but it must have been more than an hour that he sat, holding and being held. Never before in his life had he felt so warm, so safe, so… _loved_. 

Manabe pulled away, and Yuki, who had expected to feel a sense of loss and emptiness when the embrace ended, let out a staggered breath. As if Manabe’s arms still surrounded him, the warmth remained, Manabe’s very presence an insulator that fought away the cold of Yuki’s fragile heart. 

“Sorry,” Manabe murmured. It almost looked as if the other boy was hesitant, like he wanted nothing more than to just sit there and hold the rat. “I don’t want to sit here and selfishly hold onto you when I offered to let you talk. Do you… _want_ to talk about it?”

Yuki stared, another cluster of emotions welling up in his chest. He felt confusion at his friend referring to himself as selfish when he was clearly behaving selflessly for Yuki. But more than confusion, Yuki felt certainty. It didn’t matter how terrible his story was, and he then knew that there with the vice president—his best friend, his closest friend—all of his self-doubt was pointless. Manabe was still going to listen, was still going to care, was still going to hold him if the explanation became too overwhelming…

_Manabe…_

A pale hand reached out, trembling, and Yuki pulled himself to Manabe, hands on his shoulders and head resting firmly against his chest. “Yeah,” the rat murmured, calmed by the steady beating of Manabe’s heart that pounded lightly against his cheek. “… I did promise, after all.” 

Manabe placed his fingers against Yuki’s chin and lifted his head up so that he could see Manabe’s eyes. “You don’t have to hold to your promise, Yuki. I just want you to be comfortable and know you’re safe.” 

Yuki shook his head, and resituated himself so that he was sitting next to Manabe, close enough that they were touching, and to his surprise he felt Manabe’s hand take his own, their fingers interlacing. It felt strange to him; Yuki Sohma was not supposed to break down like this, was not supposed to be so _dependent_ on someone. But for once in his life, he felt _right_ —like he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

“I know I’m safe now,” Yuki reassured him, squeezing his hand lightly. “I know that I can trust you. I can tell you.” 

Manabe nodded. “I’m listening.” 

Yuki let out a long, soft sigh. “It… started when I was four years old.” Yuki unconsciously tightened his grip on Manabe’s hand. Manabe stroked Yuki’s hand with his thumb, soft, small movements that mesmerized Yuki. “He… asked if I knew what it would mean if he kissed me, and I really didn’t know… but even if I had, it wouldn’t have stopped him. He has complete control over us.” 

“Complete… control?” Manabe asked, but Yuki suddenly felt hazy, blinking slowly as only one feeling came over him: he wanted to walk away from the past that continued to haunt him, and he wanted Manabe to be there beside him every step of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> about akito--she will tend to be referred to with traditionally masculine pronouns in this fic, simply because the story comes from the perspective of people who only know her as a boy/man. the whole issue with gender seemed really poorly handled in that series imo so i'm not sure what i'm going to do with it in this fic. since i'm rewriting a lot of it we'll see where it goes!


End file.
